


And So the Prince Becomes a King

by jjabajas



Category: SKE48
Genre: F/F, Hamlet - Freeform, References to Hamlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 12:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjabajas/pseuds/jjabajas
Summary: Before the death of the King, Hamlet was just a young prince in love with the most beautiful girl in the world





	And So the Prince Becomes a King

**Author's Note:**

> A little something to commemorate SKE’s run of Hamlet :)
> 
> Prince Hamlet – Matsui Jurina  
> Horatio – Kumazaki Haruka  
> Ophelia – Nojima Kano  
> Laertes – Sato Kaho  
> King Polonius – Takayanagi Akane  
> King Claudius – Furuhata Nao  
> Queen Gertrude – Kamata Natsuki

**And So the Prince Becomes a King**

 

“What are you doing?” A voice harshly whispered in her ear.

“Be quiet!” Jurina fired back, not taking her eyes off the target. She was ducked down behind a conveniently-placed bust of her father, King Hamlet.

“H-hamlet-sama!” The voice insisted, but Jurina shushed them before they could continue protesting.

“Please, Horatio, just forget you saw me. Please.” She looked up into the eyes of her best friend, Horatio, who was watching her hide with a worried expression on her face. When Horatio got worried—as she was wont to do since Jurina’s father had fallen ill—her voice would trip and stumble over her words. Jurina used to make fun of her for it (“Didn’t we have the same tutors, Horatio? How on Earth did you escape with such bad articulation?”), but she’d let it slide in recent times.

This was not the time for many jokes in the castle. The mood was somber to match the King’s declining health. Jurina didn’t know what to do, so she’d kept quiet and to herself, only allowing close family friends into their gloomy home. Those friends included Horatio, of course—and the subject of Jurina’s current spying: King Polonius.

“I c-cannot do that, your Highness. What would the Polonius family think if they heard you were spying on them?” Horatio pleaded, eyes burning with an earnest desire not to see Jurina get in trouble. Again. What a pure soul. Sometimes Jurina regretted worrying her friend as much as she did.

“Well, then you will be sure to keep your mouth shut about this,” the prince rebutted.

“Hamlet-sama—”

“And stop calling me that, Horatio! That is my father’s title, not mine. Not yet.”

“Prince Jurina, I’m sorry…” Her friend had the good sense to back down, even though she had to be used to Jurina’s outbursts by now. Horatio’s glasses slid down her nose, but she ignored it. She’d done nothing but stick by her childhood companion and this was the way the prince chose to treat her. Jurina sighed, feeling instantly remorseful for her behavior.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.” Jurina gave one last look towards the Polonius family—loyal Laertes, beautiful Ophelia and the ever-scheming King Polonius himself, all smiling in her father’s throne room… speaking with her Uncle Claudius and her mother, the Queen—then she turned back to her friend. “You’re right. This is unbecoming of a Prince.”

Jurina stood up, still hidden by the bust, and stuck a hand out to Horatio. Her bespectacled friend smiled and allowed herself to be hoisted up.

“What say we go for a friendly spar out in the courtyard?” Jurina pulled Horatio along as she began walking. “I’ve been trapped in father’s books so much lately, you’d probably be able to best me by now.”

“Ha! You say that now, yet you’ll have me flat on my back in seconds.”

“Only if you lay down there yourself. You always give up too easily,” Jurina complained.

“Because I value my life Haml—Prince Jurina.”

Jurina narrowed her eyes at the slip-up, but Horatio’s chastened look was enough for her to let it slide.

“Fine, then—” They narrowly avoided the harried-looking attendant that hurried past them as they turned the corner. She was probably on her way to the King’s chambers. No good news ever came from there, leaving most of the staff in a constantly anxious state. Jurina sighed, but forced a smile back onto her face as she carried on talking with her friend. “How about this time I spar you with a hand tied behind my back? Your choice.”

“And if I choose both?” Horatio eagerly kept up their repartee.

“Then what will I fight with?” Jurina asked indignantly.

“Your mouth?”

“My mouth?” Jurina suddenly whipped around, robes flying in her wake as she settled into a duel-ready crouch. Horatio’s eyes widened as the prince’s hand reached for her scabbard.

“H-here?”

“I’ve fought off the vilest beasts—both human and not. I’ve bested every challenger that has dared rise against the House of Hamlet. My blade has pierced the hearts of maidens both far and wide—”

“That kind of talk where anyone could hear you—”

“But you’re right!” Jurina finally pulled her sword free with a flourish. She stared up at the blade, marveling at its worn, yet sharp edges. “You’re right, my dear Horatio. How blind I’ve been to the final step necessary for true mastery.” Jurina raised the handle to her mouth, ignoring Horatio’s protests. She bit into the sweat-filled wrapping and inwardly grimaced. Outwardly though, she stood with as much dignity as she could muster with a sword in her mouth. She announced, “Aye wiff fwffh wiff wy wouffh!”

Horatio stared at her for a moment, genuinely lost for words. She was probably wondering if her beloved prince had finally cracked under all the pressure. Finally, she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, another voice rang out in the hallway.

“Did your swordsmaster not teach you never to play with blades?”

Horatio looked up to see a smirking Laertes swaggering her way towards them. Instantly, Jurina straightened up, trying and failing to look taller—even though she wore specially-made heeled boots. It probably didn’t help that she still had her sword in her mouth. It definitely did not help.  
“Hee wih foh!” Jurina proclaimed, not making a tiny lick of sense.

“H-hamlet-sama, your sword—”

“Foh wy whaayf.”

“Hamlet-sama—”

“Wy whaayf! Faff fot wy whaayf!”

Laertes grew more and more annoyed the longer the prince and his friend’s comedy act went on. She sneered at the two of them, about to snap—

“Prince Jurina, please!” Horatio pleaded, at his wits end.

Finally, _finally_ , the prince plucked the heavy sword from her mouth. She stretched out her jaw for a moment before proclaiming, “Finally you remember my name, Horatio!”

“Wouldn’t it sound better not said in anger though, your Highness?” Her friend shot back, exasperated.

“Pardon my interruption,” Laertes cut in, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I did not come all the way here to listen to your senseless bickering.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have come here at all,” Jurina shrugged, sheathing her sword.

“Were that my choice…” Laertes glared at the two of them in disgust. Jurina was no stranger to Laertes’ snide remarks. They used to be good friends, attending many of the same classes and competitions together growing up. Along with Horatio, as well—their clumsy, yet earnest friend. However, all that had changed just over a half year ago when—

“Brother, did you find the Prince?” A call from the most beautiful voice Jurina had ever heard in her life reached her ears. Seconds later, the other Polonius sibling rounded the corner and then she saw her. The most beautiful girl Jurina had ever seen in her life. Ophelia.

Instantly, the prince’s countenance changed.

Just as she’d tried (and failed) to match Laertes’ height, so Prince Jurina tried (and failed) to match the pure happiness that surrounded her beloved Ophelia. At the very least, she smiled. She could do that much to welcome her betrothed.

“I’m sorry to report that I have not found the Prince,” Laertes drawled even as her sister drew closer to the trio. “Instead I have stumbled upon a pair of clowns in the castle hallways.”

Ophelia gently touched her brother’s arm, trying (and failing) to sooth his annoyance. She smiled up at Jurina, having eyes only for one person. “That’s my Prince.”

Laertes turned her head to the side and gagged. Horatio pushed up her glasses and looked out the window, hiding a smile. Jurina could care less what they were doing.

All she cared for was Ophelia.

The prince grasped her soft hands and pulled her closer, but not too close lest she incite Laertes’ anger.

“My dear Ophelia—”

“At least wait until I’ve left the vicinity!” Laertes shouted. She turned quickly on her heel and stomped noisily back towards the throne room. Jurina smirked, but hid it when she saw Ophelia’s playfully disapproving smile. As the tail of Laertes’ robes disappeared around the corner, the prince let out a relieved sigh.

“As I was saying, my beloved Ophelia—”

“A-actually, I just remembered—that’s right! I have t-to do that… that thing!” Horatio loudly proclaimed, breaking another one of the couple’s sweet moments. This time, it was Ophelia that nearly burst out laughing. Jurina didn’t respond, she only narrowed her eyes at her friend’s antics. The prince heard the sound of footsteps hastily retreating behind her and assumed that Horatio was hightailing it out of there. When she could hear Horatio’s boots no longer, she returned her full attention to the love of her life standing before her.

“Perhaps I should go first this time,” Ophelia suggested, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Lest the entire army storm the castle and interrupt us next.”

Jurina merely nodded, a moody pout on her lips.

“Cheer up, my Prince.” Ophelia raised one of her hands to Jurina’s face. There she traced the stress lines that had started to gather on her forehead. “You seem tired.”

“I am. Very.”

“Is it your father?”

Jurina sighed, bowing her head. Ophelia’s hand hovered uncertainly for a moment, and then she placed it under the prince’s chin. She slowly lifted her head until their eyes met again. “This too shall pass.”

“He is very ill,” Jurina finally murmured. “Mother fears the worst—or at least I think it is fear that she feels. She spends so much time with Uncle Claudius these days, that I wouldn’t proclaim to know what it is she feels anymore…”

“What about you?”

“Me?” Jurina gave a rough laugh, void of any actual humor. “I am here. Doing as much as I can to keep this castle open.”

Ophelia cupped her jaw and stepped daringly closer. So close that Jurina was sure her next step would have been to do something entirely inappropriate for the open hallways. So the prince took a short moment to relish the comfort her lover gave, but then stepped away before they could go much further. Ophelia pursed her lips, but otherwise ignored the rebuff.

“You could stay with us for a while.”

“I can’t,” Jurina shook her head. “I fear what would happen should I leave. The darkness creeps ever closer each night, waiting for the right time to swallow this place whole.”

Ophelia’s brows furrowed into a look of deep concern.

“You have a lot of fear.”

Jurina wanted to deny it, but she found she couldn’t. Her lover was right. So instead, she tried to change the topic. “But not in this moment. Not with you here with me.” The prince brought Ophelia’s hand up to her lips, kissing it softly. “Right now, I am filled with love. For you.”

The smile that greeted her statement nearly made her cry.

For a moment, it felt like the many sleepless nights she’d faced, the many hours she’d spent agonizing over her father’s mysterious ‘illness’ and trying to keep on a happy face—for a moment, it felt like none of it existed.

She was so blinded by joy, that she was too late to stop Ophelia’s next movement.

Before she knew it, soft lips were pressed against her own and nothing in the world mattered anymore. The seconds she spent kissing Ophelia was the happiest she’d felt in longer than she could remember. So Jurina let it linger, she let herself indulge—hoping that any person passing by would have the good sense to turn the other way.

She needed this.

And then it was over.

Jurina opened her eyes and immediately she pulled Ophelia into a hug. She didn’t want to know what she would do if she saw that precious smile again. Not while her heart was still in such a vulnerable state.

And then their moment was truly over.

Loud shouts and cries came from everywhere all at once and somehow Jurina knew exactly what had happened. Somehow she knew. She broke away from Ophelia and, ignoring the startled look on her face, she told her the last words she’d say to her for a while.

“I will always love you, Ophelia. No matter what.”

And then she turned and sprinted towards the only voice she could make out above the others. It was Horatio, calling her name. Calling her ‘Prince Jurina’.

Maybe that’s how she’d figured it out.

Soon the hallways were filled with a sea of people.

When Laertes finally found her sister moments later, she answered the question written clear as day on her face.

“The King is dead.”


End file.
